


When Flames Subside

by eternal_falcon



Series: Zuko's First Agni Kai [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_falcon/pseuds/eternal_falcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No,” he murmured. As his nephew’s body crumpled to the ground of the duel strip, Iroh was already shoving Fire Nation generals and dignitaries aside in his haste to reach the aisle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Flames Subside

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or its respective characters. They belong to Bryke and Nickelodeon. 
> 
> This is my (multichapter) take on the direct aftermath of Zuko's ill-fated first Agni Kai. I always thought it was interesting that the flashback in "The Storm" was told from Iroh's perspective, and it led me to wonder what went through his mind after the tragic event. 
> 
> This *might* become part of a series where I also analyze the events from Zuko and then Mai's point of view.

_He gathered his son’s cold body into his arms, cradling him to his chest. “My beloved Lu Ten,” he whispered as the young man’s handsome, motionless face blurred in his tear-filled eyes. “I failed you,” he sobbed. “I couldn’t save you…”_

“No,” he murmured. As his nephew’s body crumpled to the ground of the duel strip, Iroh was already shoving Fire Nation generals and dignitaries aside in his haste to reach the aisle.

He caught a glimpse of his brother’s hard face as he stepped down from the dueling area. The Fire Lord calmly accepted a sweat cloth from a nearby attendant, seemingly deaf to his son’s pain-filled cries. A dragon of pure rage began uncoiling itself within Iroh’s stomach, but unleashing it now would accomplish nothing. He ran past Ozai and knelt at Zuko’s side.

The boy moaned through gritted teeth as he lay curled tightly on the floor, senseless to everything but his own agony. Iroh’s gut clenched at the sight of the horrific burn covering one side of Zuko’s face. He grabbed his nephew’s upper arms and shifted him halfway onto his lap.

“Healers!” Iroh barked to the two men standing on the sidelines. Physicians always attended the Agni Kai matches, but these men hesitated to attend to the Fire Lord’s opponent without his express permission, even if the opponent happened to be the Fire Prince. Now they glanced at each other; the Fire Lord had just exited the arena, and his brother still bore a fair amount of authority. They grabbed their stretcher and rushed towards the duel strip. 

“Everything will be all right, nephew,” Iroh said softly, holding Zuko’s trembling body to his chest. “I promise you.”

 

Once the healers had shifted Zuko onto his bed, they held him still as the royal physician administered a sedative. The prince’s limbs stilled within moments, and the physician began to tend to Zuko’s burn. 

Iroh watched from his position near the window, giving the men space to work. A weight had settled within his heart, and he felt so very old and heavy, almost as much as the earth itself. He had thought he’d understood the depths of cruelty the world could offer after that disastrous siege at Ba Sing Se. And yet once again it had struck at his own family. 

Ozai had grown twisted over the years, his hunger for power eating away at whatever good had once been inside him. Iroh had certainly gotten a taste of how far his brother had really fallen when he returned from his wanderings to find his father dead under mysterious circumstances and his throne snatched away. His grief for Lu Ten had dulled his reaction to these shocking changes, although he was not so numb that he could did develop a greater wariness towards Ozai’s capacity for moral depravity. 

But he had not been wary enough, or else he never even would have permitted his young nephew to set foot in the war council meeting in the first place. Zuko had so much of his mother’s compassion in him, but he possessed the naiveté of youth, and Iroh had failed to protect him. _I couldn’t save you…I’m so sorry…_  
Iroh quickly brushed at his eyes as the royal physician approached him. 

“How is he?” Iroh asked the grave man.

“The burn is bad, but attentive care should prevent any infection from occurring. It will take weeks to heal completely, and he’ll bear the scar for the rest of his life.”

Iroh sighed softly. He had feared as much.

“Will he regain sight in his eye?”

“It’s difficult to say so soon whether the eye is undamaged.” The physician spread his hands. “I’m afraid that only time will tell.”

As the healers gathered their supplies and prepared to leave the room, the physician added, “His sedation will wear off in about three hours, but I’ve left medicine for the pain on the bedside table. Three drops in a cup of water every six hours. He will need to stay hydrated over the next few days, but just let him rest for now. I’ll return first thing in the morning to change the dressing.”

Bowing, the physician exited the prince’s bedroom. It occurred to Iroh that the healers had unequivocally accepted the fact that he was playing the role of Zuko’s primary guardian. His heart squeezed in sympathy once again. Mother gone, and a father who – 

Stifling the anger once again, Iroh took a seat next to the bed. Although he knew it was just the drugs in his system that caused his nephew to lie so still, Iroh briefly laid a hand on Zuko’s warm arm just to reassure himself. A white bandage covered the damaged part of Zuko’s face, and the hair around its edges had been singed away by the flames that had spread from the site. The visible part of his brow was furrowed as though the boy’s troubles pursued him even in an unconscious state.

Sighing, Iroh settled himself in the chair, and soon began to have troubled dreams of his own. 

 

In the wee hours of the morning, Iroh woke with a start. His nephew still slept, so he eased himself out of the chair on stiff joints to use the wasteroom. When he returned, however, Zuko opened his eye and blinked groggily up at him.

“Uncle?” he whispered, clearly confused to find the older man in his room. He shifted himself up into a sitting position, suddenly wincing as though the action caused him surprising pain. 

Then he visibly stiffened as his recollections flooded back to him. To watch the realization dawn was terrible. Gingerly, Zuko reached up to touch the bandage covering his face, his expression becoming inscrutable.

Iroh gave his nephew’s shoulder what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. “It’s going to be all right, Prince Zuko. The royal physician has already tended to your wound, and he will return in the morning.”

Zuko stared down at his covers as though unconscious of Iroh’s gesture and words both. 

“Are you in pain, nephew?” Iroh asked gently. 

Zuko’s lip curled, but he did not answer.

“There’s no shame in – “

Zuko suddenly turned to face his uncle, his visible golden eye flashing. “You speak to me of shame?” His voice sounded hoarse, agonized. “I’ve dishonored myself before the Fire Nation.”

Iroh shook his head. “The dishonor was not yours.”

“No, I’m…” The prince swallowed hard and his gaze darted around the room. Iroh waited for him to continue, but Zuko gave his head a small shake, as though he were too upset to speak. 

Reaching over for the jug on the bedside table, Iroh poured a cup of water and mixed in the drops of medicine prescribed by the physician. 

“This will help to reduce the pain,” he said, handing the cup to Zuko. “You must also continue to drink lots of water.”

The young prince downed the water, then stared pensively into the empty cup. 

“How long do you think it will take?” he asked quietly after a moment.

Iroh’s insides twisted in sympathy. How could he tell the boy that his once-handsome features would forever bear the mark of his father’s wrath? But he couldn’t lie; he would just have to find a way to break the news gently. “The physician said – “

“No, no,” Zuko interrupted. He took a deep breath. “How long will it take…for my father to forgive me?”

For a moment, Iroh found himself at a complete loss for words. “Zuko…” he began hesitantly. “You have a heart full of good, and I know in the war council meeting you only wanted to stand up for what was right, but your timing was…unfortunate.”

Zuko still didn’t meet his eyes, but he was silent still.

“Your father was not always the man he is today,” Iroh continued. “His desire for power has caused his spirit to become out of balance. Because of this…I do not think he will ever truly understand why you spoke up, and why refused to duel him.”

Zuko was already shaking his head vehemently. “You’re wrong.” His voice wobbled as a tear streaked down his face. “You don’t know anything. He’ll forgive me, I know it. Once I do something he’ll be proud of.”

Iroh didn’t even want to start imagining the sort of actions that Ozai would be proud of, but as his nephew buried his tear-streaked face in a pillow, he knew now was not the time for reason and convincing arguments. For now, the boy just needed whatever support he could offer.

He knew Zuko wasn’t likely to receive it from anyone else.


End file.
